Scamarcio introduced himself and pushed open the gate at the sound of the buzzer. Anita Meinero was standing in the doorway to her home, a little girl clutching her knee.
Scamarcio extended a hand, and Meinero took it. She was good looking, with strong cheek bones like her brother, but unlike him, she had blonde hair and blue eyes.
‘Do you have any news?’ she asked, her heartbroken eyes searching his.
‘Not yet, but we’re pursuing several theories.’
She seemed to remember her manners. ‘I’m sorry, please come in. It’s cold.’
She led Scamarcio into a long hallway with a light wood floor. The hallway opened onto a modest-sized living room with a large window that looked onto the front garden. The furniture was dark and solid and didn’t match the pale floor.
‘Please sit down, Detective. You must be tired after the journey.’
The little girl was eyeing Scamarcio with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Anita Meinero turned on the TV and said, ‘Oh look, it’s Masha and the Bear.’
The child tottered over to the TV and sat down on the carpet, quickly engrossed.
‘I don’t like to let her watch too much TV, but it’s the only way we’ll be able to talk,’ she said. ‘Can I offer you a coffee?’
Her eyes were red-rimmed and her hands were shaking slightly. Scamarcio didn’t want to cause her any extra stress.
‘No thanks, I’m fine. I’ve just had one. At the station.’
He took a seat on a wide-patterned sofa, then stood up again immediately and removed a large piece of Lego that had been lying beneath him.
‘Sorry,’ said Anita Meinero, her voice fragile. ‘However much I try to keep things tidy, I can never keep up.’
‘I’m about to have a child myself,’ said Scamarcio, not quite sure why he’d brought it up.
‘Your first?’ She also seemed a bit surprised.
‘Yes, I’m quite nervous, actually.’
‘I think that’s normal.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Scamarcio, ‘I didn’t come here to talk about me. Would you like me to tell you the circumstances in which we found Alberto, or would you prefer I didn’t? It’s up to you.’
Anita Meinero nodded wordlessly, thinking. Eventually, she said, ‘Tell me.’
As Scamarcio started to speak, she closed her eyes. He talked her through the details of the scene in the hotel room, and then explained Giangrande’s findings and theory.
‘What is the drug they found in his body normally used for?’ Anita Meinero asked, looking up. Scamarcio had hoped he wouldn’t have to mention it.
‘Erectile dysfunction.’
She closed her eyes again.
Scamarcio sighed. ‘Anita, it would really help if you could tell me a bit about your brother. I’ve spoken to his colleagues at the Vatican, but none of them knew him like you did. If he had a secret or a problem, I figure it would have been you he confided in. Am I right to think that?’
She nodded and wiped a tear from her eye.
‘So, what I want to know, Anita — what I need to know — is whether something had changed in his life of late, or whether he had changed.’ She kept nodding, and Scamarcio felt a small spark of hope.
‘He called me,’ she said, her voice starting to break. She glanced at her daughter and swallowed, trying not to cry. ‘It was before I went on holiday, so that would be about ten days ago now.’
‘Was it a routine call?’
‘No, he was worried about something.’
‘What did he say?’
She sniffed and brought a hand to her mouth. ‘He was concerned about his boss, the cardinal.’
‘Cardinal Amato?’
‘Yes, the one who does the exorcisms.’
‘What was the problem with Amato?’
‘They were treating this young lad, in Parioli, I think, or a nice suburb like that, and they’d been treating him for quite some time …’
Scamarcio’s heart was starting to race. ‘Anita, have you seen the news since you’ve been back?’
‘No, I haven’t really had a chance. I got your message, and then, well, my world came crashing down. Why?’
‘Never mind for now. So, this lad in Parioli?’
‘Well, Alberto told me he thought that the cardinal was obsessed with him. He said the situation wasn’t healthy — it was making my brother uncomfortable.’
‘Obsessed in what way?’
‘I’m not sure it was sexual — it might have been, but Alberto didn’t spell that out, as such. He just said that the cardinal gave this boy far more time than the others … that he was always calling him on his mobile, that he seemed to care about him more than the rest, that he was always asking about him.’
Scamarcio said nothing. His felt a buzzing between his shoulder blades.
‘I told my brother to talk to someone — one of his superiors in the church — let them know that he was worried.’
‘And what did Alberto say?’
‘He said, no way, he couldn’t do that, it would be career suicide.’ She fell silent for a moment and appeared to be thinking something through. ‘I was worried about him after that call. He’d seemed so preoccupied and worked up. I actually tried to ring him back the next day, before I went away, but I couldn’t get hold of him.’
Scamarcio sat back slightly on the couch. The sister’s testimony dragged Amato back into the frame and threw him right down in the middle of the picture. But there was also something subtler here, something that had repercussions on a different level, and Scamarcio made himself focus. The deeper question was, why had Alberto been so troubled by the cardinal’s ‘obsession’ — troubled enough to mention it to his sister? As his friend had said, Alberto had a good heart. Maybe his morality meant that he was struggling to accept the cardinal’s behaviour. But then, why had none of the other priests raised this supposed obsession with Scamarcio? Were they all just trying to avoid career suicide? Was it really just a case of uniform self-interest? As much as he tried, Scamarcio couldn’t simply write it off as that. Sure, it had seemed as if they were all keeping to a script, but they had also seemed genuine in their ways. There had to be something significant to the fact that Alberto was worried about this so called ‘obsession’ and that the others were not. Now, Scamarcio just needed to work out what that was.
16
ANITA MEINERO CAME BACK into the living room with glasses of water for herself and Scamarcio. While she’d been gone, her daughter had sat staring at him intently. He’d found it unsettling, and he realised that he didn’t have a clue what you were supposed to do with a child of that age: what games they liked, how you played with them, or even how you spoke to them. He was totally unprepared for fatherhood. He’d need to read a book or two. He probably should have started months ago.
He took a sip of the water and tried to concentrate on the task in hand.
‘Anita, I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but I feel it’s pertinent. Did you have any sense that your brother might have been gay?’
Maybe he’d expected a look of outrage, an angry word or two, but instead, Anita Meinero just nodded sadly. ‘Yes … I mean, it’s not like he ever spelled it out or anything, but I could tell. I actually picked up on it quite early on — from when he was fourteen or so. It was the way he’d talk about certain boys. Girls just didn’t seem to hold his interest in the same way.’ She paused for a moment. ‘But, please, you won’t be asking my parents about this, will you? They don’t know. I don’t think they’d be able to understand — they’re from a different generation.’
‘Don’t worry — I don’t need to discuss this with them.’
She breathed out slowly and studied the floor.
‘Had he mentioned anyone of late? Did you get the feeling that he had someone in his life?’
She looked up s
lowly. ‘Well, he was a priest, so obviously that would be strictly forbidden.’
‘I know, but …’
She blinked. ‘But, now you mention it, he did sound happy, upbeat, whenever we spoke over the last few months. It was only when he called worried about the cardinal that he seemed low. That was the first time I’d heard him down in a while.’
Scamarcio nodded. He was trying to connect the dots … and was failing.
Meinero was still thinking. ‘Actually, I did wonder at one point if there might be someone — and whether that person could be from a different walk of life.’
‘What made you suspect that?’
‘Alberto’s vocabulary changed. He was using words I hadn’t heard from him before, and, a few times, he said that he was bored of his fellow seminarians — the ones who’d graduated with him … that he wanted to spend time around different kinds of people.’
‘Did you ever meet any of his colleagues at the Vatican?’
‘No, just Michele. They were at college together; they’d known each other a long time. He’s a lovely man, Michele.’
‘Yes, I spoke with him.’
‘He must be devastated by this.’
Scamarcio said nothing. He didn’t want to make things worse.
‘I should probably call him.’
‘I wouldn’t be putting any extra pressure on yourself right now, Anita.’
She smiled tightly and looked at her daughter, who was now playing with a wooden train.
‘This is hard,’ said Anita Meinero, her voice breaking.
‘I know,’ said Scamarcio softly.
On the train journey home, staring out the window, he wondered about Cardinal Amato’s ‘obsession’ with Andrea Borghese. Could it really have been sexual? That seemed the most obvious conclusion from Meinero’s statement. And Borghese had been a strikingly good-looking young man. Maybe his beauty had stirred something in the cardinal — something he couldn’t control. Scamarcio pulled a sceptic’s face in the glass and was reminded of a gargoyle. He’d have to pursue this line of enquiry, but he wasn’t convinced. He couldn’t square it with what he knew of Amato. Then again, the DVD had been a surprise. With Amato, what you saw wasn’t necessarily what you got.
He turned away from the window and surveyed the empty carriage. Whichever way you cut it, it was a hornet’s nest in the middle of a shitstorm. The media frenzy would reach frightening new heights if the gay angle came out.
He dialled Garramone.
‘What you got?’ barked the chief, sounding considerably less cheerful than of late.
‘A possible homosexual obsession on the part of Cardinal Amato towards Andrea Borghese.’
‘Say it ain’t so, Scamarcio. Say it ain’t so!’
‘I wish it wasn’t.’
‘For fuck’s sake, we can’t field the fallout from that. Can’t you just ignore it? Focus on other things?’
Scamarcio said nothing, knowing that the chief had taken temporary leave of his senses. He’d give him a few seconds to compose himself.
‘Why don’t they just let them marry? That’s what I don’t understand. All these scandals, all this secret suffering could be so easily avoided if the Vatican just accepted that their priests have basic animal urges like everyone else. We’re in the twenty-first century, for fuck’s sake. It’s absurd. Totally absurd.’
Scamarcio had heard it all before. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. ‘What do you want me to do? Shall I up the ante and go into the Vatican all guns blazing with a warrant, or shall I stick to the softly-softly?’
‘What do you make of the cardinal? Is he the type to get ruffled and make a mistake?’
‘He spends his days fighting the devil. I wouldn’t say he’s someone who spooks easily.’
‘Stick with the softly-softly. That gives us some time to play with before the shit hits the fan and the Vatican seals itself tight shut.’
‘The shit might not hit that particular fan. It’s just Meinero’s word for it at this stage — in a private conversation with his sister. I suspect Meinero might also have been gay. He liked to frequent certain saunas at any rate.’
‘What does the sister think?’
‘She’s thought so for a long time.’
‘So Meinero’s dead — and gay,’ muttered Garramone as if the whole thing had been deliberately contrived to create problems for him personally. ‘It’s a huge bloody gay priest boomerang that’s going to come back and smack us in the face one way or another. We need to get prepared. Work out how we’re going to handle it. I’m thinking I’ll give media relations a heads-up.’
‘No, don’t do that,’ snapped Scamarcio. ‘Just let me do a bit more digging first, so we have a clearer idea.’
Scamarcio could hear the boss sucking air in through his teeth. ‘OK, but don’t leave it too long. Why aren’t you using Lovoti, anyway? It seems to me that you need all the help you can get.’
‘I don’t want him on this.’
‘Why the fuck not?’
‘I don’t trust him.’
‘He’s solid.’
‘A solid detective who’s got it in for me.’
‘You sound unhinged.’
‘Whatever. I don’t like him, and this thing is way too sensitive for a leaky ship.’
‘Lovoti’s not a leaker.’
‘I don’t want to take the risk.’
‘Scamarcio …’
‘Sorry, sir. I’ve got another call coming in.’
Scamarcio cut him off. He knew it was a mistake, but really, he didn’t have time to be dealing with arseholes like Lovoti.
Cardinal Amato answered his door in a thick red-and-blue checked dressing-gown. He was dabbing at his nose with a paper tissue, and his eyes, red and rheumy, blinked out from behind his spectacles like two sickly crustaceans unaccustomed to the light.
‘What —?’ The words were lost on a hacking cough.
‘Are you unwell?’ asked Scamarcio.
The cardinal was still coughing. Eventually he said, ‘I caught a cold. It went to my chest. I have a weakness in my lungs, unfortunately.’
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Cardinal,’ said Scamarcio, feeling more frustrated than sorry.
‘Could you perhaps come by another time?’ said Amato, tightening the cord on his dressing-gown. ‘It’s past nine.’
‘It’s just that we’re working against the clock on this case. It’s …’
Scamarcio felt a firm grip on his bicep, and turned to see Cafaro glaring at him. ‘What do you think you’re doing? You have no right to be up here unaccompanied.’
‘I couldn’t find you.’
‘Bullshit. We watched you on the CCTV. You sauntered in here, plain as day. You made no effort to drop by my office.’
Scamarcio gritted his teeth. ‘If I have to run every tiny detail past you, Cafaro, I will never solve this case.’
‘I’d hardly describe the cardinal as a tiny detail.’
Cardinal Amato hacked and spluttered. It sounded as if he was bringing up his insides. Scamarcio wondered for a moment if he was seriously ill — whether he should be in hospital.
‘Please, gentlemen, can we deal with this later. I just need to be in bed.’ With that, the cardinal shut the door in their faces.
‘I’ll come back tomorrow,’ said Scamarcio, half pushing Cafaro out of the way.
‘I doubt he’ll be better by then.’
‘Well, I’ll be coming. There’s a heads-up for you, Cafaro.’
‘And here’s a heads-up for you, Scamarcio: bring a warrant.’
Scamarcio turned back slowly. ‘You really want to go down that road, Cafaro?’
‘You heard me.’
‘I just want a quick chat.’
‘You’re wanting way too many chats with the cardinal for my
liking. It’s starting to seem as if he’s a person of interest.’
Scamarcio tried not to let his simmering rage boil over. ‘Why are you doing this, Cafaro? Why can’t we just cut each other some slack? We both know how this game works.’
Cafaro brushed something off his sleeve. ‘Yeah, and that’s why you’ll be needing a warrant. If I were you, I’d hurry back to my desk and start sounding out some judges. Good luck finding one with balls.’
Scamarcio stormed off, his pulse pounding. If Cafaro wants a war, that’s precisely what he’ll get.
17
SCAMARCIO DROPPED HIS SPENT fag onto the dirty plate. The ash soaked into the greasy trail of tomato sauce and made him think of blood and gore.
‘You still have a face like thunder,’ said Sartori. ‘You need to take it easy or you’ll be heading for a coronary.’
Scamarcio watched Sartori stuff another forkful of French fries into his mouth. ‘I hardly think you’re in a position to comment.’ He tapped out a second fag from a new pack and lit up. ‘So, now your terrible hunger has been seen to, maybe you can tell me what you made of our young friend in Parioli?’
Sartori knocked back the rest of his pint glass of Coke and belched behind his fist. ‘I don’t get it, all this goth crap. The guy was wearing a Beasts of Satan t-shirt with the pictures of the killers across the front.’
‘He what?’
‘I kid you not. Honestly, this shit should be banned. How can you be allowed to sell t-shirts depicting killers?’
‘When are those bastards out?’
Sartori picked up another cluster of chips and used them to sponge up the sauce from his braised beef. ‘I think they have just a few years left inside. God knows what the parents are going to say when they come face to face with their children’s murderers in the street.’
Scamarcio shook his head, troubled by the thought. The Beasts of Satan were a group of young heavy metal fans who’d carried out a series of satanic ritual killings in a town north of Milan during the late ’90s and early 2000s. The group had been convicted of three murders, although to this day it was suspected that their victims may have numbered as many as eighteen. The killings were considered to be among the most shocking crimes to hit Italy since the war.
The Devil Page 11
